


Mine

by missazrael



Series: Heats [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missazrael/pseuds/missazrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Thin autumn sunshine lights the barracks, and cadets move to and fro, going about their morning routines, pulling on thick clothing if they have it, shivering manfully if they don’t.  Marco crouches on the edge of their bunk, shirtless, impervious to the cold, a low, threatening growl rumbling in his throat as he watches them hurry back and forth.</i>
</p>
<p>Jean wakes up to Marco acting weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble in the Heats universe.

Jean wakes up to the sound of Marco growling.

He curls deeper in the blankets, not wanting to leave the warm little cocoon they created last night, a nest of the two thin regulation blankets and sheets that smells wonderfully of Marco. He doesn’t know why Marco is growling, and when Jean reaches for him, all he finds is empty space and rapidly cooling blankets. Reluctantly, he pulls the covers away from his head and looks blearily out at the world.

Thin autumn sunshine lights the barracks, and cadets move to and fro, going about their morning routines, pulling on thick clothing if they have it, shivering manfully if they don’t. Marco crouches on the edge of their bunk, shirtless, impervious to the cold, a low, threatening growl rumbling in his throat as he watches them hurry back and forth.

Jean props himself up on his elbow and reaches for Marco, his skin prickling into goose pimples as cold air hits him. Judging by the light on the walls, it’s still early yet, and he could pull Marco back down for a few more moments of warmth and affection; it hasn’t been that long yet, and already Jean finds himself expecting to wake up with Marco beside him, expecting to spend the first part of their day wrapped around each other, sharing sleepy kisses and each other’s body heat, their legs entwined and Marco’s hands patiently patting down Jean’s atrocious bed head. Marco is a perennial morning person, but he stays in bed far past when he’d like, just to steal those few extra moments with Jean, who views the morning as an enemy that must be fought against each day.

Jean reaches for him, intending to touch Marco’s back, but gets distracted by the line of Marco’s thigh, pushing out against his thin cotton pajama pants, the muscles defined and heavy. They’re beautiful legs, long and powerful, surprisingly graceful, and Jean suddenly remembers, with surprising vividness, what they feel like when they’re wrapped around his waist, ankles linked near his tailbone. He swallows, staring, and shifts his hand, touching Marco near the knee and stroking upwards towards his hip.

Marco’s growling stutters, and he looks over his shoulder, the twist and interplay of muscle and bone across his back like an exotic dance in the dim light, and Jean licks his lips. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his hand lingering on Marco’s hip, where it juts out proudly from his core. “Who’re you growling at?”

Marco blinks, brushing his freckled cheeks with his impossibly long eyelashes, and gives Jean a tiny, fleeting half-smile before turning back towards the barracks, his growling resuming. “They’re looking at you.”

“What?” Jean sits up, immediately starting to shake as the chill air invades their nest, assaulting him from all sides. To him, it just looks like another morning at the barracks, with everyone preoccupied with their own routine. No one is paying them any particular attention, although the sound of Marco’s growling gets a confused glance from Connie. “No one’s looking at me.”

“They _are_.” Marco turns and gently but firmly pushes Jean back into the bunk, tugging a blanket up around his chin before resuming his vigil, the growling a constant warning rumble in his chest. “They’re looking at you, and wanting you, and they can’t have you.”

Jean lays in the bunk, confused and a little concerned. Marco is normally the level-headed one, the sensible one, the one who counteracts all Jean’s wild schemes and impossible bravado. Jean has only heard him growl a few times, and only when there was a clear and present threat. This aggression is new, and worrying.

“Marco…” He tries again, propping himself back on his elbow and touching Marco’s back, trailing his fingers down the curve of his spine. “Nobody wants me. Come on, you’re talking crazy.”

“They do!” Marco’s retort is a sharp bark, and Jean’s hand falters, stopping over a rounded bump of Marco’s spine. “They do, and they can’t!” Across the barracks, Bertolt untangles himself from his blankets and gets out of bed, and Marco’s growling rises in volume, loud enough now to be attracting some attention. “I won’t let them take you!”

“No one is going to…” Jean trails off, suddenly realizing what’s going on. He draws in a deep breath through his nostrils, leaning closer, his palm splaying flat on Marco’s back. He draws in the scent of pheromones, wild and out of control, and he rests his forehead on the small of Marco’s back, chuckling quietly to himself. He should have known.

Marco is in heat.

Jean changes tactics, winding his arm around Marco’s waist, pressing his cheek to his back. “I know you won’t. I know you’ll keep me safe, and so do they. C’mon now, come back here, it’ll be fine…”

Marco reaches down and finds Jean’s hand, gripping it tightly, twining their fingers together. His growl shifts in tone, turning to something more like a purr, and he positions his arm above Jean’s, making a protective barrier between it and the rest of the cadets. “I won’t let them take you away from me.”

“I know.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to protect you from all of them, and keep you safe.”

“I know.” Jean’s heart jogs painfully at Marco’s declarations; it’s not the other cadets that are the threat, it’s the titans and everything else out there, and Jean wonders what will happen if one of them makes the top ten and the other doesn’t. What do they do with mates who split along military lines? He can’t imagine a future for himself that doesn’t involve the Military Police, he refuses to accept anything _but_ the Military Police, but what if Marco doesn’t make it? Would the Garrison station him close to Jean, close to his mate? 

Jean brushes the thoughts aside. Marco is just going to have to make the Military Police with Jean, that’s all. They’ll go to Sina together, and then they really _will_ be safe.

~*~  
Marco turns around fully for the first time, his eyes fixed on Jean, his brow knit down with concern. He lets Jean coax him back to the mattress, although he pointedly keeps himself between Jean and the rest of the barracks. When they’re this close together, Jean’s scent nearly overpowers him, nearly floods his senses. Sometimes, it’s so strong he swears it has colors, ambers and reds and oranges that don’t exist in nature, that should color the setting sun but don’t, the colors swirling through the scents of nutmeg and aniseed and the first frost on the ground. Jean smells like fall, is colored like autumn leaves, is like the first wind of water, sweeping in across harvested fields, sharp and bright and alive with promise. Everything about Jean is sharp and pointed, everything from the stark lines of his face to the words that spill from his tongue, but Marco knows it’s all a performance. He’s seen the softness underneath the jagged edges, the kindness and sweetness buried under the veneer Jean shows the world, and while he knows Jean would have an easier time if he showed those parts of himself to others, Marco selfishly wants to keep them to himself. Just for a little longer. Let the sweet parts of Jean be his and his alone for just a few days more.

He lays down beside Jean, his body obeying a call far older than either of them as he shifts his weight forward, pressing Jean to the mattress with one hand. Jean lets him, watching Marco’s every move with his bright amber eyes, and Marco huffs out a breath before closing the distance between them, pushing his face into the side of Jean’s neck and rubbing his scent on him. Jean tilts his head back, sighing and combing one hand through Marco’s hair, and Marco throws a leg over Jean’s hips, simultaneously straddling him and pinning him down, his cock rock hard as it rubs against Jean’s flat belly.

It’s not usually like this; they’ve been together many times since Marco’s last heat—he’s aware, distantly, that he’s in heat, that this is what’s making everything so vivid and keen around the edges—and usually it’s Jean taking a leading role, pushing Marco down and climbing on top. They’d discovered, through trial and error, that Jean likes being in control, and that Marco likes giving him that control, letting Jean guide them both in bed, the same way he does through most of the rest of their lives. It’s not that Marco is spineless, but that he likes the way Jean looks on top of him, confident and beautiful and shining, practically burning a hole through the air around him; he likes the push of Jean inside him, the give of his own body making way for Jean; he likes the way Jean’s long, delicate fingers curl around him and bring him to orgasm. 

It had been confusing at first, for both of them, and Marco had finally, reluctantly, asked for advice. He still views Reiner and Bertolt as suspect, their relationship never quite healing to what it had been before Jean’s first heat, but they were the only ones he could think to ask.

Reiner had been bluff and hale about the whole thing, clapping Marco on the shoulder and nearly driving him to his knees; even with no one in heat, an alpha is still an alpha, and Marco had made sure they were both where he could see them at all times. Bertolt had obliged him with that, lingering near Reiner’s shoulder and looking embarrassed. “Are you both having fun?”

“Yes.”

“Getting off?”

“Yes.” Marco had felt his cheeks burn at that question. They got off a lot, usually twice a day. Sometimes more, if they could sneak off between lessons.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Marco had stared at him, not comprehending. “I’m an alpha.”

“Yeah, and Jean’s an omega. But neither one of you is in heat right now, are you?”

“No.” If Marco had been in heat, there’s no way he would be this close to other alphas, and if Jean were in heat, there’s no way Marco would leave his side.

“So you like other stuff when you’re not in heat.” Reiner shrugs, his hand squeezing Marco’s shoulder. “That’s fine. You do whatever works for the two of you, and be happy you have each other. It’s no one’s business but your own.”

And now yours, Marco had thought ungratefully, though he kept that to himself.

Reiner had put his arm around Marco’s shoulders then, drawing him close, and both Marco and Bertolt had tensed at the sudden closeness. “You should just be grateful you don’t have a female mate. Females are weird, you know? You’ve got to learn this entirely different body, and where stuff is, and how it works, _and then_ you’ve got to worry about getting them pregnant.” Reiner shook his head, his arm tightening on Marco’s shoulders. “But it’s worth it, you know? You’ve got to do it when you love someone, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to keep her really happy.”

Marco had blinked, surprised, but Reiner had already released him, turning on Bertolt and giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Bertl’s going to need to learn it too, for when he finally figures things out with Annie!”

It had been fast, hardly there at all, but Marco had seen Bertolt’s face close off, his eyes going blank and hurt. If he hadn’t been looking right at him, trying to understand what Reiner was getting at, he would have missed it entirely. But then Bertolt shakes his head and takes Reiner’s arm, gently steering him away from Marco. “You’re fine,” he tells Marco over his shoulder, leading Reiner away. “Whatever you two do together, it’s fine.”

~*~

“Marco?”

Jean waves his hand in front of Marco’s face, trying to get his attention. Marco’s eyes had gone soft and unfocused, his attention drifting away, and Jean snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Marco!”

Marco blinks, his eyes clearing and coming back, and he looks down at Jean, his shoulders framed in shadows, his face illuminated by the passing sunbeams. He’s beautiful, and he’s Jean’s. Whatever else might happen, whatever the future holds, Marco is Jean’s and Jean is Marco’s.

“You’re mine,” Marco says, almost as if he’s read Jean’s mind. “Whatever we do together, you’re _mine_.”

Jean nods, cupping his hand on the side of Marco’s face, a rare gesture of affection that no one else has ever seen. “And you’re mine. We’re ours.”

Marco nods, and pulls the blankets over their heads.

**Author's Note:**

> Do one a month, she said. Try different characters next time, she said. Write about one of the alpha females in a het relationship next time, she said.
> 
> I have fallen down on all these promises, but then I woke up this morning with this little ficlet in a head.


End file.
